


Ever So

by Euterpein



Series: All Alike My Songs and Praises Be [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a priest, Blasphemy, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Catholicism, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley is a Sweetheart (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24881116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euterpein/pseuds/Euterpein
Summary: A companion piece toAll Alike My Songs and Praises Be, but stands well enough on its own.Aziraphale, formerly Father Fell, left the priesthood after falling in love with a certain red-haired stranger who had moved to town several months previously. Now, they celebrate their newfound freedom and the life they'll be able to build, together.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: All Alike My Songs and Praises Be [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800352
Comments: 8
Kudos: 133





	Ever So

**Author's Note:**

> CW: religious themes/blasphemy, virginity loss (but not in a fetish way)

They kissed for what seemed like ages. The champagne they had been sipping at sat neglected on the coffee table, utterly forgotten as they lost themselves in each others’ embraces. Aziraphale felt as though he were burning up from the inside, feverish and desperate, gripping at any part of Crowley he could reach like this was a dream that might end if he were to let go. 

“Angel,” Crowley gasped, when he finally had to pull back for air, “the absolute _last_ thing I want to do is rush you, here, but I-- do you--”

“ _Yes_.” Aziraphale practically hauled Crowley off the sofa, bringing him in for another deep kiss before tugging him hurriedly down the hallway. They ascended the stairs together, giggling and stumbling as they failed to keep their hands off each other for more than a few moments at a time, then fumbled their way over from the landing to Crowley’s bedroom. 

The bedroom was large and tastefully decorated like the rest of Crowley’s home. The slightly clumsily made bed and the laundry hamper peeking out of the closet at least made it feel a tiny bit more lived-in than the ground floor; this was obviously a space Crowley actually spent time in, like his office or the plant room down the hall, lacking the rather sterile environment he cultivated in the public areas. The bed was _massive_ and ridiculously opulent, a black silk duvet underpinned by red sheets that probably had a higher thread count than any Aziraphale had ever encountered. 

He only got the briefest glance at the room before Crowley was on him again, spinning them to push Aziraphale back against the wall and kissing along his jaw in a way that made them both groan.

“Now is probably-- _ah_ \--probably a good time to mention that I’ve not-- _oh, goodness, Crowley--_ ”

“What haven’t you, angel?” Crowley pressed the words into his skin, taking advantage of Aziraphale throwing his head back to kiss down the column of his throat until his button-up prevented him from going further. 

Aziraphale’s head was spinning again. The feeling of Crowley’s strong hands pinning him to the wall was making his knees weak in the best _possible_ ways, and he found he was having a hard time forming anything like coherent speech. “I’ve not _actually_ made love before,” he managed.

Crowley stilled where he had been nibbling at Aziraphale’s Adam’s apple and pulled back to peer at him dubiously. “What, never?” 

“I _was_ a priest,” Aziraphale felt the need to point out. He felt vaguely ridiculous having this conversation whilst pinned to a wall, but God worked in mysterious ways, he supposed. “Raised primarily by nuns, I might add.”

“Yeah, but you went to university.” 

“ _Divinity_ _school_.” 

Crowley made a face. “Fair enough.” 

“It’s not a problem, is it?” Aziraphale shifted, suddenly self-conscious. “I know I’m not the most _experienced_ lover, but I’m a quick study, I assure you.” 

Crowley growled a little, surprising him. “Angel, I don’t give a _fuck_ how experienced you are. I can tell you right now I’ll enjoy anything we do together, anything you’re ready for, because it’s _you_. Daft thing.” 

Aziraphale was pretty sure his cheeks were hot enough to make a kettle boil. “Oh,” he said, stammering slightly, “w-well then. Er--where do we start?”

“We start by getting you out of these clothes.” Crowley’s voice dropped to a low, sultry tone, making Aziraphale swallow heavily. “If that’s alright.”

“Oh yes,” Aziraphale breathed. Long, nimble fingers went to work on the buttons at his throat as Crowley dove back in for a deep kiss, a slow exploration that quickly turned filthy. He was nearly overwhelmed for a moment by all the sensations tickling across his nerves; the hot, wet drag of Crowley’s tongue, the tickling scents of cologne and champagne, the curl of arousal in his gut. It made him shiver. Made him _burn_. 

Crowley groaned in frustration when he undid the last of the buttons on the shirt and found that Aziraphale was wearing an undershirt beneath it. He reached down to pull it up over Aziraphale’s head and Aziraphale allowed it, but swatted his hands away when they reached for the buckle of his belt. 

“You too,” he insisted when Crowley pouted at him, “I want to see you too.” Begrudgingly, Crowley moved back enough to where they could each start pulling at their own clothes. Aziraphale watched as Crowley peeled off his black t-shirt, his mouth feeling worryingly dry. Crowley was _gorgeous_. He was all sharp points and angled planes, the smooth skin of his chest dotted with freckles and covered lightly with a blaze of red hair. Aziraphale’s hands moved to his trousers once again, suddenly needing to get them off as quickly as humanly possible. He undid his belt and let his trousers fall to the floor, then followed with his pants before looking back up to Crowley.

They just stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Crowley was gratifyingly hard, the length of him flushed and straining up towards his stomach. Aziraphale wanted to touch him, wanted to get down on his knees and worship him the way he had been practising for his whole life, wanted to give all of himself. He just stared at the gorgeous creature before him for a few moments.

Crowley seemed to be just as caught up as Aziraphale was. His expression was nothing but hunger and longing as his eyes roamed over Aziraphale’s plush form, tracking the flush that was creeping down Aziraphale’s chest under his gaze.

“Angel,” he said, drawling, “I would _really_ like to touch you now.” 

Rather than answering Aziraphale reached out to him, pulling at his bony shoulders until their mouths crashed together once again. His hands roamed greedily over Crowley’s chest, his arms, even sneaking boldly around to grasp at Crowley’s (admittedly rather flat) arse. 

Crowley gasped, then nipped lightly at Aziraphale’s bottom lip in playful retaliation. He spun them both around and half-walked, half-pushed Aziraphale towards the bed, fumbling blindly to pull back the silk coverlet before easing Aziraphale down between the sheets.

“How do you want me?” Aziraphale asked, which drew an almost wounded sound from Crowley.

“Just lie back against the pillows. Yeah, like that.” He urged Aziraphale to scoot further towards the centre of the bed. He looked down at Aziraphale then, spread out across the sheets like some painting, just _gazing_ at him.

Aziraphale squirmed, caught between arousal and a slight trickling of embarrassment. “What are you looking at?” 

“ _You_ ,” Crowley answered, fervently. He lowered himself into Aziraphale’s waiting arms, pressing the length of his body carefully to Aziraphale’s below him. “You’re more than-- _fuck_ , angel, you’re so beautiful.” And they were kissing again, passing their fervour between them in the press of their lips, their tongues, the heat of skin on skin searing but burning in only the best of ways. Crowley hissed and Aziraphale whined when their hips came together, giving a tease of glorious friction.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cried as Crowley made a serpentine little gesture with his hips that caused Aziraphale to see stars. “I want you!”

“Want you too, angel,” Crowley murmured as he pressed kisses to Aziraphale’s jaw. 

“No, Crowley, I _want you_.” Aziraphale swallowed. “Inside me. Er--please.” 

Crowley pulled back, scanning Aziraphale’s face carefully. “You sure about that, angel? ‘S a bit much for your first time.”

“I’m sure.” He wasn’t; the thought of Crowley being inside him, _fucking_ him, made his heart race with as much nervousness as excitement. He had stopped himself from daring to even dream about it since he had met the man, but now that the thought had occurred to him it burned everything else from his mind. 

Crowley still looked a little dubious, but he leaned over to rifle through one of the drawers in the nightstand by the bed. He drew out a condom and a small plastic tube of lubricant with what looked like a white flower on the label. These were deposited unceremoniously atop the bunched-up duvet before Crowley shifted again, shuffling down Aziraphale’s body on the bed, coaxing Aziraphale to both lift and spread his legs so Crowley could fit neatly between them.

The image of Crowley poised there on his knees, firm hands parting Aziraphale’s soft thighs with their straining cocks so very close together, was nearly enough to undo him. Aziraphale gripped at the sheets around him for lack of anything to hold on to, and tried to get his breathing under control.

“Don’t worry, angel,” Crowley said, apparently mistaking his excitement for skittishness with the way he was petting up and down Aziraphale’s legs, “I’ll make you feel so good. Nothing to worry about. I won’t hurt you, I swear.”

“I know, darling.” Aziraphale’s voice was practically unrecognizable, a shaky and breathless thing. “I know. _Please_.”

Dark, pleased eyes flashed up to meet his own as Crowley pressed a kiss to the inside of his knee, his calf, and finally to the base of Aziraphale’s cock as he lowered himself down once again. Nothing could have prepared Aziraphale for the way that small motion sent shockwaves throughout his body. Crowley’s touch was electricity, shooting sensation through him as he moved his open lips slowly up Aziraphale’s shaft, more a tease than anything else. Aziraphale realized suddenly that he was shaking. 

He couldn’t resist the urge to lift a hand from where he was gripping at the sheets and bury it in Crowley’s hair as Crowley licked at him, teasing gently at his slit before swirling his tongue around the head like an ice lolly. Aziraphale drew in a sharp breath and his fingers tightened involuntarily, causing Crowley to moan around him. This created a momentary feedback loop where Crowley’s moaning made Aziraphale’s fingers tighten even further, and they went around like this briefly until Crowley apparently couldn’t take it any more. He pulled off, resting his forehead on Aziraphale’s knee, and caught his breath. 

“You are gonna be the death of me,” he said, turning soft, amused eyes to meet Aziraphale’s gaze. 

“I very much hope I don’t.” Aziraphale was vaguely impressed that he still had the coherence for speech. He pet idly at Crowley’s long hair, running his fingers through the soft red strands. “Now that I’ve had this once I’ll be wanting it quite often, I expect.”

Crowley barked a laugh. “Well, we can’t leave you wanting...” He grabbed at the bottle of lube he’d tossed onto the bed earlier and coaxed Aziraphale to put his legs up over Crowley’s shoulders before bringing his mouth down to lick teasingly at Aziraphale once again. The muted _snick_ of a cap opening was lost in Aziraphale’s gasp, but he felt it when a warm, wet finger pressed ever-so-gently at his entrance. 

He jumped slightly at the odd sensation of it. Crowley didn’t press further, though, or really even _move_ \--he just held the finger right there until Aziraphale’s instinctual reaction died down. Once Aziraphale had relaxed a bit he began moving the finger in slow, tight circles, which he mirrored tantalizingly with his tongue. 

Aziraphale gasped and cried and nearly _begged_ as Crowley drove him absolutely _mad_ with this methodic movements. He kept the slow, teasing pace as he eventually slipped the tip of his finger into Aziraphale’s arse and started pumping it slowly. Some part of Aziraphale had expected it to hurt; he didn’t engage with pornographic material very often (though he had a few novels he would have described as ‘racy’ in his collection that he had managed to justify to himself as classic literature), but somehow he had gotten the impression that this process was meant to me at the very least highly uncomfortable. It wasn’t. _Odd_ , perhaps, especially at first, but any sensation of discomfort was more than washed out by the intense pleasure Crowley was drawing from him with such skill. 

He fought the urge to close his eyes with the pleasure of it all. He wanted so desperately to capture this moment in his mind, to remember the way Crowley looked with his eyes full of bliss and his mouth full of Aziraphale. Finally, though, Crowley brought a second slick finger to tease around his rim with a mischievous little smile and a swirl of tongue and the feeling became overwhelming; his eyes shut tight of their own accord and he threw his head back against the pillows, feeling as though he might combust with it. 

Crowley was still preferring light, teasing movements over Aziraphale’s cock. He would press kisses to the base and up and down the shaft, giving little licks or the very faintest scrape of the back of his teeth (and didn’t _that_ make Aziraphale shiver), lapping up the fluid that was weeping openly from the slit, but anytime he would finally let his lips encompass the head he would pull back almost immediately. It was _maddening_ and _devastating_ and absolutely the most erotic thing Aziraphale had ever experienced. It was also a perfect distraction away from the now two slim fingers making slow, careful thrusts within him, loosening him up while the rest of his was so thoroughly diverted. 

Two fingers became three while Aziraphale writhed and sweated and babbled: “Oh God, Crowley, you’re so good to me, it’s so _good_ \--ah! _Yes_! Right there, oh love, right there, yes, _please_ \--” He lost focus for a while, too full of sensation and need to register anything beyond Crowley’s mouth on him, his fingers, the look of absolute _rapture_ in his eyes when Aziraphale had the wherewithal to actually meet them. 

Finally, just as Aziraphale was absolutely sure a single additional moment of this would cause him to burst into flames, Crowley gave one last kiss to Aziraphale’s flushed head and pulled away. Aziraphale gave a small sob at the loss of the sensation and at the emptiness that plagued him when Crowley’s fingers were withdrawn as well, leaving him clenching on nothingness. Crowley sat back on his haunches and peered down at him. He appeared nearly as affected as Aziraphale felt; his pupils were blown wide and he was breathing heavily, flushed and panting. _Beautiful_. 

“Are you ready, angel? Are you sure?” 

Aziraphale nodded rather than answering, all words driven from his mind in the wake of his _need_ to have this gorgeous creature closer to him, as close as possible. His dearest one, his _love_.

Crowley swallowed heavily, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He felt around for the condom that he had deposited earlier and ripped the packet open, then slid it over himself to the base with a little shiver. The small tube of lubricant was similarly located and he slicked himself up, slack-jawed gaze never leaving Aziraphale’s hungry one, his jaw working. He leaned over and grabbed at a few of the myriad pillows littered across his bed then spread a warm hand out across Aziraphale’s buttock, encouraging him to lift them so that Crowley could slip the pillows beneath his hips. 

Then, finally, Crowley hovered over him once more. There was something hesitant in the way he looked down at Aziraphale; tentative, as though he were a fragile thing he was desperate not to break. Aziraphale reached up and drew him down into another kiss. He tried to press his willingness into that kiss, to tell him with his fervour that the hesitation was both appreciated and completely unnecessary. He ran a hand down Crowley’s back to the curve of his arse and applied a gentle pressure there to try and encourage him closer. 

Crowley seemed to get the message. He reached down between them and guided himself to Aziraphale’s entrance, both of them gasping at the sensation of gentle pressure. Aziraphale’s head spun helplessly again--this was the point of no return for him. The sacred vow he had once made would be well and truly broken after this (though, admittedly, it probably already was), completely irreparable and without renewal. He looked up at Crowley’s flushed face, at the look of careful concern and fear of hurting Aziraphale and adoration as plain as day, and he gripped even tighter at Crowley’s hip. 

Crowley made short little thrusts as he breached him, pushing in no more than an inch each time before drawing back. It wasn’t strictly necessary; his preparatory work had been more than thorough, and Aziraphale felt nothing more than the smallest twinge of discomfort at the intrusion. Still, he welcomed the time to get used to the sensation. It was a curious fullness, overwhelming and yet also _not enough_ , and he cried out at every little push. Eventually Crowley stilled above him, buried to the hilt. He rested his forehead on Aziraphale’s and they did nothing more than share breaths for a moment. 

After what might have been seconds and might have been lifetimes, the feeling of being overwhelmed seemed to recede from Aziraphale, replaced only by the hunger for _more_. He whined and wrapped his legs around Crowley’s skinny hips. He buried his fingers in copper tresses, tugging, asking wordlessly for what he needed.

Crowley’s mouth found his again as he started to move slowly, shallow little thrusts that nevertheless sparked fireworks behind Aziraphale’s eyelids. Aziraphale whimpered. _Oh God, this was_ \--this was--if Hell’s fire felt anything like this, he would burn all over again in a _heartbeat_. Surely humans weren’t meant to feel this much pleasure. Surely this Heavenly rapture with its very Devilish indulgence was beyond the realm of mere mortals? And yet, here he was. Every movement was like an electric jab to the very core of him, sparking lights across his vision, a buzzing in his veins. 

He clung desperately to Crowley as the pace increased, unsure which of them was encouraging the other to speed. His hips moved to meet Crowley’s as they shared increasingly frantic kisses, lost in sensation and in the burning heat of him, in the desperation he could feel reflected back at himself. They moved together, a feedback loop of love and desire drawing them forward, quickening their pace, making their breaths turn ragged and harsh between kisses. 

The sharp, aching sensation was growing within him at a dizzying pace. He broke the kiss to throw his head back again, unable to stop the words bubbling from him: “Crowley, _Crowley_ , yes, _harder_ , please don’t stop, _yes_ \--!” Crowley complied, pulling almost all the way out before slamming in once again, and Aziraphale saw the face of God. His vision went white for a moment and he _screamed_ , digging his fingers into Crowley’s hip and through his hair, his back arching up off the bed entirely. Crowley grunted and worked him through it, keeping pace as the initial wave hit him and then moving to gentler thrusts as Aziraphale shook through the aftershocks before finally going still. 

Aziraphale’s vision remained hazy for several seconds. His body felt utterly limp and satiated after his release, his mind swimming with a kind of gentle, formless bliss. After a few seconds, however, he became aware that Crowley was still inside him, still hard. Aziraphale blinked a few times to clear his vision and peered up at him. Crowley’s eyes were closed and he was shaking, apparently with the effort required to keep still. “Are you alright, my love?” he asked, hesitantly.

“Angel,” his voice was a rasp, “can I?” 

It took the soup of Aziraphale’s thoughts a few moments to register what he was asking, but when he finally understood he huffed. “Oh, _Crowley_! Of course you can, my dear. Here.” He gripped at Crowley’s hips once again, encouraging him to start thrusting again. Aziraphale found he was sensitive and not nearly as responsive as he had been before his orgasm, but the brushing contact with his prostate and the whimpering sounds of pleasure Crowley was making was more than worth the small amount of discomfort. He whispered little words of praise and gratitude in Crowley’s ear as he moved above him, scratching his short nails up and down his back to feel him shiver, until Crowley stilled and buried his face in his neck with a long groan. 

After Crowley had rolled carefully off of him and disposed of the condom somewhere off the bed that Aziraphale couldn’t see, he laid himself down next to Aziraphale and threw an arm around his middle, resting his head on Aziraphale’s wide chest. Aziraphale wrapped an arm around his shoulders in turn, drawing him close.

“Thank you,” he said, simply. It wasn’t enough, but anything else felt trite. 

Crowley smiled against Aziraphale’s chest. “Was it worth it?”

_Worth it?_ Aziraphale thought, frowning. _Worth wha--oh. Well, that wouldn’t do_. Carefully, he coaxed Crowley to bring his face up to meet Aziraphale’s gaze and placed his hands on either side of his face. “ _You’re_ worth it, Crowley,” he said firmly, not missing the way Crowley flinched a little and tried to avoid Aziraphale’s eyes. “What we just did was absolutely wonderful, and I very much look forward to doing more of it in the future, _thank you_ ,” Crowley did at least crack a weak smile at that, “but it is not the reason I’m here. _You_ are the reason I’m here. Because I love you.”

Crowley’s eyes widened, then seemed to grow misty. He closed them, leaning into Aziraphale’s touch, and let a tear be wiped from his cheek without fuss. “I love you too, angel.” 

The day had been long and the night, though enjoyable, had been exhausting, so before long they moved to get ready for bed. They curled around each other beneath the sheets and drifted off to sleep, together. 


End file.
